Search for Freedom
by sands' gal
Summary: A young woman is haunted by her memories of her past. She desperately needs to find her freedom. Could Captain Sparrow be her knight in shining armour?
1. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!

**I do not own any characters or ideas from Pirates of the Caribbean. I'm just borrowing them. Enjoy!**

'Where is the bastard, Jack?'

'I'm not sure, Gibbs, but I know he's up to no good. We've got to find him.'

'Find him? He's a murderer! Why would you try to find a man who's trying to kill someone? Are you a fool?'

'You don't remember what he did to my family, Gibbs?'

Gibbs swallowed. He should have known better. Jack hardly ever mentioned his parents; it was so long ago now. But Gibbs doubted that Jack would ever forget it.

'Besides,' Jack went on. 'What chance does he have against me? I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!'


	2. Dreaming

**I do not own any characters or ideas from Pirates of the Caribbean. I'm just borrowing them. Enjoy!**

'There she is, sweetie. Can you see? What do you think?'

The huge ship came into view, its white sails billowing, contrasting against the grey clouds. She was 'The Magnificenté', and she really was just that. Magnificent.

'Papa, it's so big!' The little girl shrieked in delight. She scrambled over the wet rocks for a better look.

'_She's _so big, darling. A ship is a 'she', not 'it',' the young man watched his daughter fondly. He shouldn't really have brought her up here while the rocks were wet. He knew his wife, Rebecca would probably scold him most severely if she ever found out. 'Be careful on the rocks,' he called out. 'They're treacherous. If you fall there'll be no hope at all for you.'

He seized the seven year old's arm to pull her back a bit. He startled her and she yelled, dropping her small knitted doll. She watched in dismay as it fell over the rocks and landed on a ledge, just out of reach. The young girl began to cry.

'Shh, sweetie, I'm sorry,' her father soothed. 'Not to worry, eh? We'll have it back in a second. Wait here. Do not move.'

Slowly and carefully, he approached the edge of the slippery rocks. She watched on, her eyes wide.

'Papa, no. Come back. Don't fall.'

'It's alright, sweetie. I can see it. I'll get it for you.'

'No!'

It happened so quickly, it was a wonder how the girl saw it at all. She leapt forward as he slipped, grabbing his scrambling hand. She gritted her teeth as she fought to hold on.

'Sweetie, keep hold. Whatever you do, don't let go, alright? I'm going to pull myself back up.'

She nodded, her eyes squeezed shut. Rain was falling everywhere. Time had stopped. His feet were searching aimlessly for some sort of foot hold. He could do it. He could reach the top. He lodged his feet in a crevice and reached for the top.

Instantly, the rocks under his feet shifted and he fell. He heard her screams, saw her hands flailing hopelessly.

She saw his face, etched with horror, his eyes locked with hers. She was screaming. She watched him fall, down, down to the jagged rocks below.

Then there was silence. Water was lashing down. Was it rain? Or her tears? She didn't hold on. She didn't hold on and he fell. He told her to hold on.

'Papa!' The little girl sobbed. She looked up through the rain. The ship had gone. Frantically, she stared around at the cliffs. To her left there was a bit of a slope down to the bottom. It didn't look quite as steep. If she was careful she might make it down to him. Perhaps he was alive. She had to check.

Moving cautiously, she made her way slowly down the rock face, clinging to every edge she could reach. Numerous times, her feet would slip and they'd scramble, trying to find somewhere safe. Her heart was pounding in her ears and she couldn't see. She didn't know how far it was to the bottom but, after what seemed like a million years, her feet found the solid ground.

She straightened up and looked around. Her father was lying motionless a few feet away and she stumbled over to him. Kneeling beside his broken body, she reached out.

'Papa,' she whispered. 'Papa, wake up.' She pushed at him desperately, willing him to move, breathe, give any signal that he was still living. He did nothing. 'Papa, please, wake up. I'm frightened. Please, Papa.' She felt the tears pouring silently down her cheeks, landing on his arm.

She flung herself onto his stomach, her face in her folded arms, sobbing uncontrollably. It was her fault. Her papa was dead. It was all her fault.

'Papa,' she moaned through her cries. 'Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.'

* * *

'Wake up, wake up, Shannon.'

Shannon's eyes snapped open. Cold sweat covered her body and she was shivering. That had happened so many years ago, so why did it still affect her? She lay still but then felt something shove her.

'Shannon, wake _up_!'

'_What_!' She rolled over to come face to face with her best friend, John. She groaned. 'What is it?'

'You need to get up. We're running late. Work. You've got to go to work.'

Shannon peered at the window. She really didn't feel like getting up to go to work. 'The sun's barely up,' she grumbled. 'Wait a minute, how did you get in here?' She had no family. Her mother had died of grief, a year after her husband had fallen from the cliffs on the edge of the town. Shannon had lived with her nanny until she had also died, when Shannon was fifteen. She had lived alone for ten years, earning a living from her job as a delivery girl for the local bakery.

John looked at his feet, smiling guiltily. 'You wouldn't answer the door when I knocked. It was either knock the door down or pick the lock.'

Shannon rolled her eyes at him. 'I'm beginning to wish I'd never taught you how to do that,' she yawned. 'Alright, I'm up. Wait outside, I'll be out soon.' John left and Shannon stood, changing from her thin nightgown to her plain dress. It really had seen better days. Everything of hers had. But she couldn't afford anything better. She barely earned enough to keep her tiny home and to feed herself. She wouldn't complain. So she opened the door and rejoined John, ready to start her day.


	3. The Black Pearl

**I do not own any characters or ideas from Pirates of the Caribbean. I'm just borrowing them. Enjoy!**

The place they lived in was called Barahona. It was right by the coast and marvellous for catching mackerel. The weather was hot, although Shannon wasn't too warm. She wore a knitted shawl, that had once been her mother's, as she strolled through the streets, a bread basket on her arm. Every so often, she would check a list she kept in her pocket and stop at a nearby house. She was paid a few coins at each door and then went back on her way.

It wasn't a bad job, considering what she could be doing, she thought as she dodged a couple of whores, plastered in make up, heading the opposite way.

She had left John at the blacksmith; that was where he worked. He earned more than Shannon, though still not much. Shannon didn't know where she would be without John. They'd known each other since they were children and he'd always looked out for her. If it wasn't for him, she'd probably be living on the streets by now.

Just as Shannon turned the corner of an alleyway, busy counting her money, a man bolted past her, shoving her into the wall. She gasped, winded, and clutched at her chest in alarm. Barahona had never been a rough place; usually people were very relaxed. She poked her head around the wall, watching the man run away through the crowds. He was quite small and had dark hair, not too long, but long enough to bob around his head as he ran. He seemed to be heading for the cliffs. Shannon shuddered. She hated those cliffs.

Shaking herself, Shannon picked up her earnings that she had scattered on the ground in her panic, putting them into her little brown purse she carried at her waist. She stood, straightening her filthy dress and set off again. She still had a lot of deliveries to finish before she could go home, and it was already mid-afternoon.

About an hour later, Shannon was walking down that same street when she was knocked to the ground. Wait a minute, she thought, what's going on today? Hearing screams and yells, she sat back up, quickly. Everyone was running about madly.

'Shannon, get up! You can't sit in the middle of the street. You'll be trampled!'

John grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet.

'Where did you come from? What's happening? Why's everyone gone mad?'

'Didn't you hear? Someone's killed the Governor!'

She gasped. 'What? When?'

'His maid found him an hour ago when she went in to take him some tea!'

They were standing in the middle of a street of chaos. A murderer? In Barahona?

'How was he killed?' Shannon yelled over the screaming.

'Stabbed! Seven times! Apparently there's blood everywhere!'

'Oh my… Do they know who did it?'

'A couple of people think they saw a man running through the town. They didn't think anything of it, until they found out about the Governor. They say he had dark hair that bobbed as he ran.'

Shannon paled. 'What?'

John looked worried. 'Shannon, what's the matter?'

'I think I'm about to faint…'

* * *

'Oh wait, here she comes…'

'Hey, don't try to move, you hit your head.'

Shannon looked around her. Where was she? They weren't in the bright sunlight anymore, and she couldn't hear any yelling. But the pain in her head told her something was wrong. She waited for her vision to clear before she tried to see who was standing around her.

There was John. Thank god. There were three other men, all looked rather strange.

'Who… who are you?' She slurred. Her head pounded with the effort to talk.

The man closest to her smiled, showing many gold teeth. Shannon's eyes widened slightly at his absurd appearance. He had long dreadlocked hair, dark brown and tied back with a bandana. It was adorned with trinkets and beads and other objects Shannon didn't want to bother finding out about. His eyes matched the colour of his hair and he had chiselled cheek bones. Not bad, she thought. Then he spoke.

'I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, love!'

Shannon's eyes widened again. A pirate. Of course, she thought, taking in his clothing.

Captain Jack Sparrow introduced the other two men as Gibbs, a portly little man with grey hair and kind eyes, and Cotton, a man who didn't seem to be able to speak but had a parrot on his shoulder who seemed to do more than enough.

'You know, love, most women only faint because their corsets are too tight,' Jack Sparrow went on. 'You've outdone them all!'

Shannon blushed.

'I… I was… um… where are we?'

Jack Sparrow grinned again.

'Welcome to the Black Pearl, love!'


End file.
